


The Battling Strider Brothers

by eighth_chiharu



Category: Homestuck, Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, Crossover, Gen, Pokestuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2015-06-17
Packaged: 2018-04-04 18:38:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4148604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eighth_chiharu/pseuds/eighth_chiharu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bro, the local gym leader, engages his Ghost Pokemon in their daily strife with his little brother Dave's cute widdle flock: Murkrow, Torchic and Fletchling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Battling Strider Brothers

They’re up on the roof again. The sun shines hotly into Dave’s eyes, Bro having grabbed the westerly corner of the building already. They fight on the roof no matter what the weather, every day. Dave thinks it’s fucking unfair, since Bro’s an expert with Ghost monsters, and they don’t give a shit what the temperature is like. Dave’s bird Pokemon, on the other hand, feel the heat distinctly, and in Texas, well, let’s just say Bro has a serious handicap that only the lightest of jockeys should enjoy.

Still, there’s no escaping practice, and Dave wouldn’t change his affinity any more than he would change out Bro. He resigns himself to another sweltering, hour-long lesson on strategy, attention to detail and the penultimate drudging of his Pokemon. Dave’s instruction in swordplay and his own personal ass-kicking will come last. Bro insists that a trainer be able to defend his charges if need be; one never knows when an attacking Pokemon might go rogue. Dave thinks Bro just likes to fight.

Without warning, there’s a shimmer in the air and Bro’s Pokemon spring onto the tarpaper: Aegislash, angular and cold, and that freaky-ass Mr Mime. Bro’s dressed it in an extra shirt of Lil Cal’s, making Dave shudder. His brother might be a famous gym leader, but he’s also a big weirdo. Dave sets his jaw, refusing to be intimidated, and looses his own flock onto the roof.

“Torchic! Fletchling! Murkrow! Go!”

The birds flap free of their Pokeballs, fluff their wings as they settle and screech, shouting challenges at Bro’s Pokemon. They’re brave; they’ve fought Bro before and been bested - too many times to count - but they’re growing stronger and they trust Dave. They won’t back down without a fight.

Bro is as silent as ever, his Pokemon motionless beside him, staring as though they’re apparitions and not flesh-and-blood creatures. It’s unnerving as hell, but Dave’s seen the show before. He knows Bro will wait until Dave makes the first move, so he doesn’t do more than take a breath before he’s shouting moves to his Pokemon. They explode into feathery action, three on two, even in the face of certain defeat. But if he doesn’t try, he won’t get better, and he doesn’t want to live in Bro’s shadow for the rest of his life.

Murkrow takes Mr Mime, keeping him occupied while Torchic and Fletchling try to sidestep Aegislash. Dave’s trained Murkrow hard in secret, giving him the best possible advantage for a young Pokemon facing a psychic: high-school brainwashing. 

During late nights, while the house is still and Bro is out working at some club, Dave has drilled Murkrow, telling him over and over that he’s a Child of Darkness, the blackest of all souls, the most Emo of Emos. He’s shown Murkrow tons of vampire movies, dressed him with eyeliner and rubber bracelets, hell, even played Marilyn Manson and Morissey, everything he could think of to give the bird an edge against the Dark powers of that fucked-up Mime. No matter what Bro’s Psychic Pokemon tries to do, Murkrow’s certainty that he rules as the King of the Night will keep him from ever being shocked or overwhelmed. 

True, it’s not the best work for an attack, but it sure as hell seems to be a great defense. Murkrow buys the team some time as he pecks at the Mime, yelling Edgar Allen Poe at the top of his lungs. To everyone else, it just sounds like “MURKROW! MURKROW!”, but Dave knows a “NEVERMORE!” when he hears it, no matter what language it’s in.

Bro’s eyebrow twitches, a sign that he’s impressed with Dave’s tactics, but the glory is short lived. Aegislash changes shape, its shield form deflecting an attack from Torchic before shifting seamlessly back to a sword to strike out at Fletchling. A swing and a miss, Fletchling evades and readies itself for its Big Peck, but the King’s Shield is back, and it fails. Still, neither bird gives up, and Torchic moves behind Aegislash, forcing it to defend two fronts, to shift back and forth and back again. Tire them out, that’s the trick, then at the last moment, finish them!

Dave knows better than to trash-talk Bro during a battle, but he can’t help his smirk. He’s making progress, and maybe he’ll even force Bro to a standstill! Keeping his cool facade, he crosses his arms and leans back, proud of his flock.

Then Mega Bannette appears.

There’s not a sound from Bro, but Dave squawks like his birds. The thing is just /there/ suddenly, materialized without any warning, and Dave gapes. What the fuck is THAT doing here? Why doesn’t Bro just bring an Uzi to the damn match?! Or how about a fucking grenade?!

“Hey, no FAIR!” he shouts, and at the sudden human voice, his Pokemon flinch. Murkrow and Torchic recover, but Fletchling is facing away and has to look back, to see what’s wrong with Dave,.

Aegislash is not trained for mercy.

Seizing the opening, Sword Dance hurtles toward the Fletchling as if in slow motion. Dave can feel his heart stop, his mouth open wider to yell his bird’s name. Already his hand is out, the Pokeball in it, but he can tell he’s too late. Aegislash is the Pokemon of kings, one of the best, and Bro is the best gym leader, and there’s no-one to save Fletchling and it’s all Dave’s FAULT –

“STOP!”

The words aren’t so much a shout as a whipcrack, a flat snap like a gunshot that freezes every Pokemon on the roof, and Aegislash stops midmotion as if inertia isn’t a thing. His deadly edge barely taps little Fletchling’s throat, but whether due to relief or fright the tiny bird falters and loses consciousness, dropping to the roof in flutter of loose feathers. Dave immediately recalls her into her Pokeball, face flushed with shame, heart still pounding with adrenaline.

The other two come next, and Bro’s Pokemon exit as well. Dave still doesn’t know how Bro commands them without speaking, but Mr Mime has psychic powers. Maybe he relays Bro’s orders? Or maybe they’re all just that good.

Trembling, Dave tucks the Pokeballs into his pouch, keeping Fletchling’s in his hand. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs to it, petting the ball. “We’ll get you fixed, you’ll be okay.”

Bro crosses the roof - normally for once, walking like a human - and Dave watches his approach warily. Quickly, before his brother can say anything, he asks, “I know you wanna trash my ass, but can we please take Fletchling to the Pokecenter first? She needs help. You can slap me around all you want after that, whatever, but - ”

Bro’s hand moves, but instead of drawing a katana, it rests on Dave’s head. “Did good just now, little man. Made a serious mistake, though.”

“I know,” Dave says uncomfortably. “I’m sorry.”

“Long as you learn from it, it’s all good.” Bro’s sunglasses wink, the light bouncing over them as he inclines his head toward Dave conspiratorially. “And that Murkrow. What’d you do to keep Mr Mime from knocking him out? You gotta tell me, it was amazing.”

Dave’s heart thumps again, but it’s with pride and embarrassment. He shrugs, trying not to smile at his big brother and p much failing. “Tell you on the way to the Center?”

Bro musses Dave’s hair and drops his arm to Dave’s slender shoulders, hugging him. “I’m lookin’ forward to it.”


End file.
